


Childhood Amnesia

by Philiah



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical OMORI Warnings, Character Study, Gen, Heavy Angst, OMORI Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29730081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philiah/pseuds/Philiah
Summary: Sunny never forgets.No matter how much he tries.He never does.
Relationships: Mari & Sunny (OMORI)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	Childhood Amnesia

**Author's Note:**

> I try my best at trying to remain as close to canon as possible, so if anything's off, let me know!!!  
> [Also my friend played OMORI!!! Show him some love for me, yes? Tell him I said hi or something lol](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RAHdVZPsrwk)

Sunny always had a good memory. 

He could remember many parts of his early childhood, sometimes even in vivid detail, and he could memorize almost anything in an instant despite only experiencing or being told once about it. It was difficult for him to forget things. 

Mari would always tell him things. Words of advice, simple encouragements, off-handed comments; and he would always listen quietly, intently. He could remember her gentle hands guiding his against the piano keys too. ‘Do’ ‘Re’ ‘Mi’ ‘Fa’...

He could remember her laughing, clapping her hands whenever he managed to mimic her well, and maybe he was laughing too. 

People often got surprised whenever he could recall things from a long while ago in full detail, like the time Hero had first met Mari. He was only a single digit age at that time and he always looked unfocused, daydreaming about whatever that was going on in his head. 

“It was such a funny incident,” Mari had said when she was bringing it up for Basil during a picnic, who had asked how they all met each other. “I was wondering why he was just standing there, refusing to move, but turns out there was a spider right outside our classroom. We were the only two left and I was in a hurry to meet up with Sunny, so I just pushed him forward to make him move.”

Hero cleared his throat, cheeks pinking as Mari giggled, continuing on with the story, “We weren’t really friends at that time, but after hearing that high pitched scream--”

“That was because he almost stepped on it,” Sunny mumbled, staring at the red-and-white checkered pattern picnic blanket without much thought. “You screamed too, because you were surprised by his screaming. It wasn’t a loud scream. Both of yours. It was loud when combined.”

“You...were there?” Hero blinked, taken aback by how easily the memory came out of Sunny’s mouth. Sunny only shrugged, as if it wasn’t that much of a big deal.

“I was scared too. Of the spider. That’s why I was waiting down the corridor. I watched it happen.” He traced his finger along the lines of the red boxes of the picnic blanket.

Basil had always admired his good memory. He was always afraid of forgetting, opting to keep every precious memory of his as photos and notes so he’d never forget. Sunny didn’t quite get why at the time, but he did think the photo album was pretty cool.

He liked replaying memories in his head sometimes, like reopening a book you’ve once read just to read your favorite part. The car ride home from the beach, the time they built a treehouse… These were memories he cherished in his heart and mind, and he was thankful that he was able to remember them well, even if the others didn’t.

His good memory did also make picking up the violin easy. He remembered the chords and tilts and fingerings the same way Mari would teach him the piano keys, and he was glad, because that meant he could spend even more time with Mari. She was always inside, playing her piano, and barely came out to play due to her bad knee.

He didn’t mind. Being inside with her was fine. They could play for hours on end. Together. Forever.

She always looked graceful, even when she was alone in that piano room of hers, playing all her melodious songs. Arms outstretched, eyes half lidded and staring at the keys, her mouth curled into a small smile. It wouldn’t hurt to join her little paradise, right?

Sometimes he hated how photographic his memory was. He couldn’t cherry pick the memories he wanted to remember, and on some occasions, bad memories would prick at his brain like pins and needles; looming over him like a dark cloud.

He could remember clearly what it felt like to be surrounded by water, to not be able to breathe, to sink and sink until he could barely see anything.

He could remember her hands grasping for his, pulling him up and out, and those same hands had wiped away her own tears of relief. She was crying, hard, yet she was smiling.

That wasn’t a bad memory, but it wasn’t a good memory either.

He remembered hugging her tightly, not wanting to let go, as if the water would leak out of the river and swallow him back up again.

He didn’t take many bubble baths after that. 

He could remember the little details Mari said, things she muttered under her breath during practice for their recital; about how she wanted it to be perfect, just right, not a single key off. He knew it wasn’t directed at him and he knew she wasn’t doing it on purpose yet…

It was pressurizing.

He just wanted to play with her, spend time with her.

If doing this recital made her happy, he’d gladly do it with her. But the expectations she had for the final result was overwhelmingly high, he just couldn’t take it. He really couldn’t.

He could remember wanting to keep up with her in pacing, and he was doing that just fine thanks to his splendid memory, but she never looked satisfied. It almost, and sometimes, felt like it was  _ his  _ fault.

It wasn’t. She always told him it wasn’t. He didn’t really believe it. He should believe it. Mari wouldn’t lie to him, and she’d never hurt him either.

He couldn’t take it.

Just a little longer.

Stupid violin.

It was just a recital.

People would be watching him.

Mari would be there.

He just had to play the violin.

Mari would be watching.

He had to play the violin. Perfectly. Just right. Just for her.

…

All he ever wanted to do was play the violin  _ with  _ her. He didn’t  _ want  _ to play it on stage for hundreds to see. And what if he messed up? What if Mari got upset at him? What if he got so overwhelmed by the crowd he stopped playing? It would feel like drowning all over again.

He was afraid of drowning.

So in a fit of rage, he slammed that goddamn violin down the stairs, shattering it into pieces. That way, he wouldn’t have to play anymore, he wouldn’t have to worry about messing up. All he had to do now was pretend he accidentally dr--

“What did you do?!” Mari hissed, storming up to him with her brows furrowed. He had never seen her so mad before. “Why did you--”

“It was...an accident,” Sunny mumbled, bringing his hands behind his back.

“I saw you deliberately throw your violin downstairs! Why would you do that? After all your hard work…” Mari frowned, sighing with frustration as she balled her fist. “Sunny, seriously. Tell me what’s wrong.”

_ She can’t know.  _ He breathed, dropping his arms to his side.  _ This recital meant everything to her. She’ll just get even madder if I told her why.  _ “Just...leave me alone.”

“Not until you tell me why,” Mari grabbed his shoulders gently, but that action itself conveyed enough of her irritation. At least, he thought it might’ve been irritation. “Was it me?”

“I said leave me alone!” Sunny grimaced, gripping his fists tight.

“Sunny. Talk to me. Why did you throw your violin downstairs? The recital’s today. Didn’t you want to perform with me?”

“Just go away!” Sunny shifted, reaching for the stairs.

“Sunny--” Mari’s eyes softened, blocking his path. She wasn’t going to let him go until she got her answer. He could remember the look of concern in her eyes, the initial rage melting away upon seeing his own frustration bubbling out of his usual monotone face.

“I don’t want to do the stupid recital!” Sunny yelled, pulling her hands off him. “I never did!”

He didn’t mean to, maybe he had pulled her off him too hard or maybe he had shoved her while he was pulling her off, but it managed to send her falling backwards. Blinded by fury, he had forgotten where they were standing as she began to fall further and further.

And even when she fell, she fell gracefully. Arms outstretched, eyes widened, mouth hanging open in a scream that never came out.

His fingers reached forward in a desperate attempt to curl and lace them with hers.  _ Please, for once, let his hand be quick with something that isn’t that god damn violin. Please.  _

_ Please _ .

It was unfortunate how the darkness was faster than him, swallowing her up in one terrifying gulp. Just like that violin.

That goddamn violin.

_ THUMP! _

“Mari…?” 

It didn’t feel real. It couldn’t have been real. Yet he remembered it so well as if it was yesterday. The way he dragged her body up the staircase and placed her on the bed, the way he felt the warmth of her skin leave her body, the way he had curled up and cried into his arms while Basil held tightly onto him.

The way he hung her up on that tree like a Christmas ornament. 

She really did look like an angel.

If it weren’t for that empty eye staring back at them. There was no malice, no resentment. It was just  _ empty.  _ And somehow, that was even more terrifying.

Even in the mellowness of Basil’s comfort, Sunny still felt so cold.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to forget this all ever happened, to pretend everything was still the same; that Basil still liked taking pictures of treasured memories, that Hero still wanted to become a chef, that Mari was still in her piano room.

‘Do’ ‘Re’ ‘Mi’ ‘Fa’...

He missed her. Till now he still does. He wished he could forget.

But he couldn’t. He really, really couldn't.

Sunny always had a good memory.

**Author's Note:**

> [Scream at me on Tumblr! I was worried about the quality of this fic, but now I'm rather proud :D](https://justphilia.tumblr.com/)


End file.
